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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450830">Adrift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintitfun/pseuds/aintitfun'>aintitfun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bandom, Twenty One Pilots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety Attacks, Autism Spectrum, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Meltdown, Panic Attacks, vent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:20:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintitfun/pseuds/aintitfun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler isn't "autistic", at least that's what his therapist says.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Adrift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CW: implied self harm mention. excessive use of quotation marks. title from the song "adrift" by Kississippi</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tyler isn't "autistic", at least that's what his therapist says when he asks. Even if he was, he would be considered "high functioning" to most people. He wonders if people would say the same if they saw him in the midst of a "meltdown". </p><p>---</p><p>It's not a meltdown per se, He's just "overwhelmed". He had a long day at work and then found out that his therapist was "breaking up with him" that evening. He knew it was coming, but he didn't think it would be so abrupt. There was no weaning him off of his current therapist before she stuck him with someone new. Someone who didn't know him. Someone who didn't know his history. He had to start all over again, from the very beginning of his mental health struggles. He was starting a whole new relationship with someone all over again. So yeah, his therapist broke up with him. </p><p>He had already been agitated coming in for his visit. His work had given him trouble, although jokingly, for dipping out early for his appointment. Logically, he knew they were joking, but deep down he was upset for possibly upsetting them. There were so many changes that were happening in his life and he was having difficulty adjusting. New job, new rules, new management styles, newly placed trust in him to do the right thing and to know what the right thing to do was. New people to meet, so many new people to meet, and so many names. He always had trouble with names. So his therapist is breaking up with him and she says the name of the new therapist multiple times. It won't be until his 4th visit with the new therapist that her name will even stick.</p><p>He's saying his goodbyes to his now old therapist as he schedules his next visit with the new one. He tries his best to still the ever growing need to shake, twist, and flap his hands by squeezing them tight and shoving them under his legs. The new therapist has kind eyes, but he's too overwhelmed to look at her. He can barely hear anything over the chorus of "no, no, no, NO!" in his head. But it's fine. He's an adult. He can handle change. It's fine.</p><p>He stops into the office to check on things at work before he makes his way home. "How was therapy?" a coworker asks in a friendly manner.</p><p>"Fine. She broke up with me." Tyler's voice is deadpan. He can't muster up the energy to pretend. </p><p>His coworker chuckles, then sighs when they realize that Tyler is serious and genuinely upset. "We'll find you a new one. Don't worry too much." Tyler barely hears a word they're saying.</p><p>Tyler really needed milk and a handful of other things, but he was tired and frustrated and sad and "overwhelmed", but he was an adult and he could handle change. He just needed to get milk. It would be fine.</p><p>It wasn't fine. Tyler liked to use the hand scanner so he didn't have to talk to anyone and the checkout would be a breeze. Self checkout was not working and the person in charge of running was a teenager who could care less about being there. Tyler's machine pinged and yelled, and the light started blinking to signal for help. He could feel his cheeks heating up. Everything in his body was screaming "RUN!", but he was an adult and he could handle this. The teenager glanced at the blinking light, adjusted something at the register next to his, and went back to his station. With the light still blinking and no real resolution in sight, Tyler grabbed all of his things and went to a... regular register. </p><p>Tyler could not remember the last time he let someone else ring up his items. He avoided it like the plague. There was the expectation of smiling, small talk, and pleasantries. Three things that he hated because it didn't make sense to him and he was "overwhelmed". He just needed milk and a few other things. He was an adult and everything would be fine.</p><p>It wasn't fine. There was some sort of technical issue happening with his store card that delayed the transaction for 3 or 4 minutes longer than Tyler could stand. His whole body radiated heat. He felt a flurry of tears in the back of his throat. The dam threatened to burst at any moment. <b>IT WAS FINE. HE WAS FINE. HE'S AN ADULT. HE CAN HANDLE IT.</b> </p><p>Finally, the employee begins to scan the items. He's fine. He attempts to focus on the sound of each item making its way into a bag so he can finally make his escape. The employee attempts small talk. </p><p>He's fine. </p><p>
  <b>-beep-</b>
</p><p>He's an adult.</p><p>
  <b>-beep-</b>
</p><p>He can handle this.</p><p>
  <b>-beep-</b>
</p><p><b>HE'S FINE. HE'S AN ADULT. HE CAN HANDLE THIS.</b> </p><p>Tyler gathers up his bags and dashes out the door in the least suspicious way possible. He tosses his bags in the car, slides into the driver's seat and the dam breaks.</p><p>
  <b>HE'S NOT FINE. HE CAN'T HANDLE THIS. EVERYTHING IS <i>TOO MUCH</i></b>
</p><p>He rocks back and forth, his hands gripping tight onto what little bit of hair he has. A steady stream of "no,  no, no, no" bubbles from his throat and into the sickening silence of his vehicle. "I can't. I can't. I can't." He tries to ignore the feeling of the tears dripping down his face. He prays no one in the parking lot is looking at him. Oh god, he hopes no one is looking at him. What if someone calls the police? His chest feels tight as he begins to hyperventilate. He's an adult. He's supposed to be able to handle this. Everything is <i>too much</i></p><p>and just like that, it's over. He angrily wipes the tears from his face and attempts to regain his composure for the ride home. Those nagging thoughts of self harm haunt his mind for the entire ride. </p><p>--</p><p>Tyler's not "autistic", but the sense of relief he feels when a friend says they feel that way too. the feeling he gets when Josh says his stimming is "cute". the moments when he remembers the borderline self injurious behavior he had as a child when he felt like no one was listening to what he was trying to say. Everything pointed to a yes. But Tyler's therapist says he's not autistic, so maybe he's just not trying hard enough to be an adult like everyone else. or maybe...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>quarantine got me writing self indulgent vent fics ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p></blockquote></div></div>
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